Lestrade's visitor
by jellyunbrella
Summary: Lestrade gets an unexpected house call from Mycroft. Is it unwanted or the start of something new? One Shot.


Greg Lestrade heard the spare key turn in the lock, which could only mean one thing. He had a visitor. A visitor whom he didn't think he would see again any time soon. Not since there had been a new arrive at Baker Street. He hesitated for a moment not sure if he was pleased or annoyed at the arrival of his visitor. Unsure whether he should call out, to avoid having to see them again.

The knock on his living room door made him jump. He hadn't heard the front door close, hadn't heard the footsteps on the stairs. There was a small cough as his visitor politely informed him of their presence. Now Greg had no doubts as to the identity of his visitor. He took a deep breath and turn to face the door way.

And there he was, as finely dress as ever with not a hair out of place, even though there was a storm raging through the street of London.

Why did he have to come here? To my house? To my home? How dear he.

"Good evening, may I come in?"

May I come in indeed! Like I would have a choice! You let yourself in and then ask to come in! I mean that doesn't even make scene! Does it?

"I do not mean to intrude, it is just I have some questions I would like you to answer for me, if you can."

Of course you have questions! You always have questions! But you don't need me any more! You have never really needed me! I could never satisfy you with my answers!

"My dear fellow. You seem to be shaking. Are you feeling unwell?"

I mean you have him now! And he CAN answer your questions! He can give you all the answers you desire! And more!

"Lestrade. Greg. Please. Come and sit down. You look faint"

His even living with him for God's sake! How am I meant to compete with that!

"Greg"

Lestrade felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and straight into those eyes. Thought big blue eyes, and he melted. There was no reason for him to come here looking for answers. So why was he here? If not for work then…

"Greg, do please come and sit down. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Oh. Yes. Um. Sorry" He shook his head. "I was miles away, I'm sorry. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Lestrade started towards the kitchen as his guest found the sofa.

"Greg, I do apologise but this shall have to be a brief visit. If you don't mind"

All the calmness that Lestrade had found, vanished as he yelled "Why are you here?!" He spun around to face the man on the sofa. "You and I both know you haven't come for answers about your little brother. So what is it that brings you here Mycroft!? What?"

Mycroft almost dropped his umbrella at his friend's outburst. "I" cough "I do not know what you mean."

Lestrade's face turned red as he strode over to the sofa. "Stop playing your little mind tricks on me! You aren't here about Sherlock! You have John for that now! And he is of far more use that I could ever be! There is no reason for you to be here! So why are you sitting on my sofa?!"

Mycroft flinched. For the first time in his adult life he was scared. Out of all the crooks and thieves he had to meet with, how was it possible that this man could make him flinch? As Mycroft was re-evaluating his friend, he realise his mouth should have been moving. "I was in the neighbourhood and thought I would see how you were."

Lestrade's face was nearing purple by now. "You thought you'd see how I was at 3am in the morning?! By letting yourself in?!"

Mycroft sighed; he had not meant this to happen. "Lately my late night walks seem to always bring me to this neighbourhood, and so when I saw your light on. I…" He trailed off and fixed his eyes onto the top of his umbrella.

"Spit it out man! If you have something to say then say it!" Lestrade began pacing up and down in front of the sofa, feeling more like he was in the interrogation room at the yard than in his own home.

Mycroft did not take his eyes off the umbrella, but started to explain himself in a quiet voice. "I did knock, but when you did not answer. I was worried something might have happened to you. So I used the key you left with me. I did not mean to offend you. I. I just. It has been a while since last we met."

At this Lestrade kicked Mycroft's umbrella from his side, forcing the man to look at him. "So you came here to see me, and yet you have talked to that thing more than you have to me!"

Mycroft shot up from the sofa, "I do apologise my friend. It is just I am unaccustomed to this type of visit and must admit I am rather nervous of the whole matter."

Lestrade fell silent, confused, but that was not unusual for him in the presence of one of the Homes brothers. So he said what he always said, "Do explain."

"Lestrade. Greg. My friend. You may not wish to hear what I am about to say. I fully understand if you wish never to see me again. But please do not let this effect your relationship with my brother. He needs you more than you think."

Mycroft guided Lestrade to the sofa, and sat down next to him.

"This is new to me. And bizarrely my brother has more experience in this area of life than I do, though I do not ever wish to consult him on it."

Both men fell silent. Lestrade's mind was racing, was Mycroft hinting at something that he had been dreaming about ever since he had met the man, mere moments after sending his brother packing.

After collecting his thoughts Mycroft continued. "Now that my brother has John, I no longer need to consult you, and I see no other reason why I may need to see you. Yet I cannot seem to stop thinking about ways in which I could see you again."

Lestrade felt his heart beat faster; his face was red, but no longer from anger.

"Even with my intellect, I could not devise a reason to see you. Yet see you I must. So for the first time in my life I have acted without a plan, without logic, without reason. All I have achieved is making you angry. Please accept my heartfelt apologises and I will leave you once and for all."

Mycroft moved to pick up his umbrella, but he felt a weight on his thigh, and he froze.

"Mycroft"

He forgot about his umbrella and turned slowly to face the man who had hijacked his thoughts. Who embraced him, never wanting to let him go.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's<strong>** Note: This can about when a friend and I tried to find a logical way for Mystrade to work. ****I don't own Sherlock**


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